The Second Writer Games: Life and Death

Task Two - Blood Runs Thick - Entries

Amelia Westwood:

 Amelia was hit with a strange sense of nostalgia as she glanced around the silent arena. Of course her current situation was completely new and despite her being placed in a clearing facing a huge, metallic cornucopia, Amelia felt like she knew this place. Perhaps the show had visited a similar place, she mused. She smiled sadly at the thought of her beloved circus. "When you win," she said to herself, "you will see them all again and you will perform." The ring of the church bell thrusted Amelia back to the present. Her hazel-green eyes scanned her competition, people of all ages, some wearing clothes she remembered in her old history books and others wearing things she don't recognised. People of all ages, some the age of her parents, others just kids. Amelia's heat sunk a little as she imagined the kids killing but she buried her disgust as she planned her route to the cornucopia. 

Amelia, for the first time in a deathtime felt hunger and thirst, so she located a bag which she could run to. A silver sword lay close by, it's blade glinting in the sunlight. She slowed her breathing as she prepared to run to the centre. You have to do this, you have to save Sam. The mantra was running through Amelia's head as she closed her eyes.

As the church bell rung once more Amelia ran with all her might towards the shining cornucopia. Her breath hard as she swooped up the  bag and then the sword. She ran harder, hair flying out behind her as she witnesses a girl with a purple streak in her hair throw a knife into a brunette's back. A halfhearted swing of a knife from a orange-haired seventeen year old boy was dodged by Amelia and the poor lad was impaled on a roman sword. Amelia ran once more her sword flying out to hit a short brown haired girl with a vengeful look on he face. Amelia was cut by her axe on her left cheek, the blood rolling down her cheek as she continued to run towards the forest. Her breath heavy as she dodged another attack with a bloody knife from a seventeen year old boy who she stabbed in one sweep. Another man, Clive, attempted to shoot her, he succeeded, bullet hit shoulder as sword hit chest. Amelia let out a sob as she continued running, open wounds and all. 

The thick, comforting trees of the forest drew near but her path was blocked by a young girl, whom she pushed away, a scream was ringing though her ears and Amelia prayed she hadn't just killed her. The trees engulfed her as she continued to run through them. She swerved rapidly to avoid a crash as she flew through the forest. 

A few minutes later, Amelia stopped, heart pounding, cheek bleeding and shoulder burning. She spotted a tall tree, one she knew she could climb. Steeling herself, Amelia sheathed her sword and grabbed a branch. Her shoulder in agony as she pulled herself up. Again and again, she climbed. As soon as she reached a high enough point she stopped, hauling herself on a branch. Tears mingle with the blood on her cheek as he peeled back her top to inspect her shoulder. She grimaced as she inspected it. The climb had been excruciating but now she was safe to lick her wounds. The guilt of her her killings were surfacing as she started to cry once more. 

Hans Corone:

There is nothing quite like feeling alive. 

Even now, when I know myself to be dead, the semblance to life is so great I cannot help but identify it as the most invigorating existence I have been in for a countless period of time.    As a young boy, I heard of children’s tales of men rising from the dead in a monstrosity against nature.    If only I knew then where I would end up.